


I See the Light (Although It's Probably Because You Hit Me Too Hard)

by anonymusblader123, NekoAisu



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Bardic Performance, Allura & Shiro are Related, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Awkward Flirting, Bad Flirting, Dancing and Singing, Fights, Forgive Me, Frying Pans are Dangerous, Haggar is a Horrible Parent, Hunk Owns the Tavern, I Guess It Is, Keith is Maximus, Kidnapping, Lance (Voltron) Being an Idiot, Lance is Flynn, Let Shiro Live 2K16, Lots of running and hormones, M/M, Magical Shiro, Major Character Injury, Major Character Undeath, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pidge is a Mercenary, Prince Shiro, Random Music Numbers, Rating May Change, Shiro is a Disney Princess, Shiro needs a break, Space Dad Shiro (Voltron), Tangled AU, Thievery, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Why Did I Write This?, You Should Hide Your Kids, assholery at its finest, bisexuality strikes again, i wish, is hair bondage a thing?, please someone teach lance better pick up lines, poor space dad, rated PG for Pretty Gay, the more you know, voltronrarepairweek2016
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-12 21:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7949611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymusblader123/pseuds/anonymusblader123, https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoAisu/pseuds/NekoAisu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Running from a rather obnoxious order of knights and their regrettably well trained horses was not on Lance’s To-Do List. Neither was getting smacked soundly in the head with a frying pan. </p><p>A.K.A. That Tangled AU nobody needed, nor wanted. Have fun, folks.</p><p>For VLD Rare Pair Week by @voltronrarepairweek on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For day one: Firsts
> 
> As the days go on I'll get into the prompts more and the chapters will get longer, I promise. This was really rushed, so feedback is greatly appreciated. The next chapter should be over 1K hopefully.

The crown glittered almost teasingly in the light. It was an almost suspiciously easy steal. A little running, some sneaking around on the slippery tiles of the palace rooftops, and a quick ride by rope left a certain pillow suspiciously empty and a certain thief’s almost too full. The only problem was that Lance couldn’t keep his big mouth shut. A little teasing and jabs at an oblivious guard jolted him into action. Soon enough the ground was racing toward him and Lance’s two companions were hot in pursuit as the three sped away from the palace cavalry at double speed with a few more trips than strictly necessary.

It wasn’t long before he was skidding to a stop before a rock face. A dead end. “Pick me up.”

“Why should we trust you?”

Lance simply raised a brow in a show of arrogance, “Because I can lift you once I get to the top.” He just stood, hands on his hips, staring back of the two accompanying him.

Rolo was tall, lanky, and definitely well versed in assholery. His partner in crime, Nyma was leagues snarkier. Completely unimpressed by Lance’s failed attempts to flirt with her and his well-practiced bravado. They obviously weren't impressed by him and Lance could even say they didn't  _trust_ him. The _nerve._ It was only with a littler persuasion and the mounting stress caused by rapidly approaching hoof beats that he was practically thrown the few feet to the top of the small cliff. He gave them a smug grin, waving jokingly towards the the stranded two. It was almost too easy. He had the bag. He had the crown and-  _holy crap was that a horse charging him!?_

It took less than a second. The black stallion had practically appeared beside him, weaving around the branches of trees and tracking him down as if the hose was really a hunting dog in disguise. Its rider was nowhere to be seen and it honestly terrified Lance. There was a moment where it honestly made sense. It was some sick karma for all the stupid shit he had done.

Lance tripped up and it happened almost in slow motion. His bag opened, flap lifting more than enough to allow a peek at his newest conquest. The crown went tumbling out in a mess of gold and blue. The embedded gems caught patches of light as they went tumbling. It would have almost been beautiful if it wasn't Lance's only shot of getting back  _home._

The two shared a look, or rather a challenge, before shooting off from their spots. It was a race to save the crown. A race to see who could play for keeps. It was also a race that ended up with the two careening toward the ground at a speed that definitely couldn't be considered safe. 

* * *

 

The landing definitely wasn't what Lance would ever accept as anything more than a crash. It left him with aching bones and more than an acceptable amount of bruises, but he was  _alive_ and that was all he worried about... well, until that creepy horse appeared again just as he snatched the crown back again.  _Fuck._

Lance busied himself with sneaking away, about to slip along a rock wall only to realize it wasn't a rock  _wall_ , but an  _entrance_. Unfortunately for Lance, or rather his bruises, he didn't seem to notice before he feel backwards onto the ground with a slight thud and a bit more silent cussing than was strictly necessary. The sight that greeted him upon getting back up and turning around definitely made up for the surprise. Unfortunately for Lance, the small sound his fall made attracted some rather unwanted attention in the form of a certain stallion. He held his breath. The horse walked by, sniffing at the surrounding area before passing his hiding spot.

Lance sprinted toward the tower upon the departure of the crazed animal. The grass surrounding it seemingly untouched and the stone spire seemingly uninhabited. It was  _tall_ , but not impossibly so and definitely a good place to hide. The only problem was a lack of visible entrances. No doors. No stairs. Not even a pulley up to the window.  _Nada._

It took longer than Lance had expected. Using arrows as grips wasn't a bad idea, but climbing up with protesting joints was. His legs screamed and shook with exertion and it was only by some sort of miracle that his arms didn't give out half way up. That he didn't go tumbling towards the floor for the second time in a time period too short to be considered anything other than his own fault rather than a set of horrible coincidences. 

Upon scooting awkwardly through the window, Lance opens his bag. The crown was safe. He was safe. He was also promptly smacked soundly on the head by a frying pan wielding man way too hard to be considered anything short of knocked out. Well, that's a first.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lights are always there. The same day each year. The same spikes of longing. The only difference this year is the unknown person in Shiro's closet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's chapter two. It's for the day two prompts: hurt/comfort  
> I promise it will get wildly more shippy in the next chapter. The plot divergence will also start to show.

The tower was tall, secluded, and was slowly driving Shiro insane. He had long since covered every inch of available space in paint. He had no way to climb down through the body leading upward and have at that, but he had managed to coat the brick walls of his room in more hues than most would see in a lifetime. Murals of lions, lanterns emblazoned with a sort of 'V' symbol floating into the sky, stars and planets, suns bleeding into galaxies of color and light. It all seemed to glow in the sun coming from the window. 

There were bookshelves stocked with worn volumes. Some had indents on the covers from where they were handled continuously. Others were dogeared as well. Paint drips decorated most of the furniture present. There were a few spots where shelves sagged under the weight of heavy tomes. Candles sat on almost all available surfaces, nestled, half-melted into corners and onto tables. It looked almost like any normal room. The only visible difference being the abundance of hair looping around support beams and lying in long lines across the floor in a haphazard mess of black.

A cat sat perched on the sill. It yawned, a low rumbling meow following close behind as a slightly scratchy voice sounded out in a call to the tower inhabitants. Shiro jolted in surprise, flicking paint all over his face. It would have seemed almost funny that someone of his size could become so apprehensive in such a short amount of time, but- having known Haggar as his mother and benefactor for years- he was aware of her deranged nature. 

The ancient woman stood at the base of the tower. Her robes were heavy, covering gnarled skin and brittle clumps of hair. She seldom yelled, a gravelly voice making itself known no matter the volume. "Shiro. Bring me up." He obliged. 

Black hair cascaded down in a flurry of strands. The wind blew it away from the tower slightly before the aging woman gathered it all together, looping the mass into a sort of step before waving for Shiro to bring her up.

Haggar was almost never appealing to look at. She was usually grinning maliciously from under her hood, or brooding on a corner of her chambers as if the dark would give her answers. It was only ever after Shiro sat down with her, a section of hair in her hands, that she was ever pleasant to the eye. He would sing a short song, watching as the strands begin to light up. They would always give off a shade of light that he could only ever describe as  _silver_. It wasn't white. It wasn't like sunlight. It was a color that seemed to radiate a feeling of coldness without chilling him. 

By the end, Haggar would be restored to her youth. She was actually remarkably beautiful- or, really, had been- and Shiro was always less intimidated once she looked to be around his age instead that of storybook elders'. The facial markings were the same. Red stripes contrasting startling purple-hued skin. She would always take the heavy clothing she wore out to her room before returning in lighter robes, skin much softer and face free of wrinkles as if she was replaced with someone completely new in the short span of time it took for her to absentmindedly brush Shiro's hair. It was a transformation that never failed to put him on edge just as much as it comforted him. 

Haggar had long since swept past him to begin busying herself with unpacking a bag full of items from the outside. There were new ingredients to be used, or preserved. Some new encyclopedias, a couple of the trashy romance novels the older woman liked to read, and a whole new set of astronomy books were somehow stuffed below. It was almost like some sort of magical bag.

She sat down on a rickety wooden chair. Shiro fiddled with his fingers in a rare show of anxiety. He took a deep breath before stepping toward his foster mother. She had found him abandoned at the base of her tower and raised him ever since. He wasn't one to try and upset her. He wasn't one to try and upset  _anyone_ for that matter. Shiro was just too good a kid. The problem causing him stress, however, was something that truly went against his nature. 

He wanted to go out. He wanted to see the lights and all the stars that weren't visible from him perch at the top of the tower. Shiro wanted to be  _free_ and it was a concept he knew Haggar wasn't all that fond of. He knew it was dangerous on the outside. She had made that abundantly clear with her fairy tales that devolved into twisted nightmares and fables that would never end well for any of the parties involved, but he still wanted out.

"Mother?"

The sorceress locker her gaze on him. "Yes, Shiro? Is it about the new arm?" She paused, waiting expectantly for a reply. She had given him a limb. One to replace the one he was born without. She had to make a new one every time he grew and, given the fact that he had been slowly bulking up as well, it had to be fitted perfectly as to not strain his body in any way. 

He shook his head, "No. It's doing fine. Thank you, mother."

"That's good to hear." She nodded in approval. "Is there anything you want for your birthday? You are turning twenty-one this year."

Shiro blanched slightly, looking away as if he was a teen trying to explain a crush to his parents, "About that. I wanted to go see the li-"

_"No."_

"But-"

Haggar shushed him, eyes flashing dangerously. "You will _not_ leave this tower. You're here, so I can protect you and I'm _sorry_ , Shiro, but you need to stay here... stay with _me._ "

Shiro's face fell. He put up a weak resistance, "I'm strong though, mother. I'm old enough to be able to leave and you can come too. I want you to."

The older woman just shook her head like how he had earlier. "Oh, darling. You aren't ready for the world out there. Just listen to me. Mother knows best."

* * *

She had left. It had taken a long tirade and some rather dejected apologies to get Haggar to calm down enough to even  _agree_ to leaving once again. Shiro knew she didn't trust him very much. He knew she thought he was going to leave. It had taken more than a little convincing to get her to just  _leave him alone_.

It didn't help that shortly after she left there were some rather unusual sounds coming from outside the tower. Black growled lowly, alternating between hissing and meowing lowly at the approaching threat. 

Shiro knew how to fight. He also knew that bludgeoning someone with a metal arm was pretty cruel. He went to his next best option which, _at the time_ , had seemed like it would hurt less. He grabbed a frying pan. A rather heavy one, at that, and swung it around experimentally before creeping towards the window. 

He didn't have to wait long. He never did for anything, really, unless it had to do with the lights. There was a bit more noise. The scuffle of shoes. Some mild cussing. A few clinks that sounded suspiciously like weaponry. Then there was a creature in Shiro's house and good  _lord_ was he terrified. 

A swift swing and an almost nauseating thunk later found the mysterious being face down on his floor. Shiro poked at it, handle of the pan still in hand as he curiously attempted to figure out what the  _hell_ had appeared in his home. Haggar wouldn't be happy about this, but he wanted to know what it was. He poked cautiously at the pile of limbs on his floor before flipping it over, almost startled to find a face that looked almost suspiciously human on the stranger. A little more prodding wouldn't hurt, right? 

Shiro flipped the pan around, hand gripping the edge. There was a buildup of tension, Black staring disinterestedly out the window in his usual show of nonchalance, before the male worked up enough courage to press the handle of the pan onto the person's lips. He moved it slightly, letting out a slight gasp when there were no sharp teeth to be found.

They were  _human_ and they were a ticket  _out._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback me, please!


End file.
